


we're supposed to be a team

by Greet



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hong Jisoo | Joshua-centric, Hurt Joshua, Implied Relationships, Joshua is home sick, Light Angst, M/M, Overworking, Protective Jeonghan, Seungcheol is kind of a jerk, Sick Joshua, Sickness, Whump, Yoon Jeonghan-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greet/pseuds/Greet
Summary: "Jisoo didn’t respond, but that was okay. They sat there for a few more minutes, Jeonghan’s words weighing heavily in the atmosphere in the room. He continued to hold him, rocking him lightly and playing with his hair until eventually the breath-taking sobs turned to numb sniffling. Jeonghan kept swiping aside any stray tears with a tender hand, their breath eventually the last sound in the room, allowing for the hushed whisperings of the rest of the band on the other side of the wall to come through."





	we're supposed to be a team

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mainvocalrocky (infinityxu)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinityxu/gifts).



> hurt/comfort dialogue challenge!
> 
> 20) "That's the third time you've stumbled in the last ten minutes!"

Jeonghan knew something was wrong as soon as the concert started. Everyone was suffocated with a nervous energy that offset the entire group dynamic. It was there first concert of the year, and Jeonghan could practically smell the nerves emitting from everyone- especially Jisoo. 

  
It confused him at first. The latter wasn’t one to let the nerves affect him; he usually went along with a cool head, and the two of them were typically in charge of calming the others down. It was a rare sight for Jisoo to be nervous visibly. If he was nervous, it manifested in a vicious cyclone inside of him, his exterior cool and collected as he destroyed himself from the inside out. It took Jeonghan a long time to figure out how this coping mechanism worked, and it him like a bag of bricks when he found Jisoo in his hotel room, curled up on the floor by the base of the bed, his face blotchy and hands shaking. 

 

Jeonghan knew how hard it was for Jisoo coming to Korea so suddenly. He missed his parents, his mom especially, a sickening amount, and as he struggled with the language, it was easy to see how stressed he could become. But because of his calm demeanor, it would never show until he started to crack. Somehow, Jisoo and Jeonghan latched onto each other as trainees. Their views were the same, and they agreed to leave together when it became too much. At times they were practically inseparable, and thus came that Jeonghan was the only person to know when Jisoo got stressed or upset.

 

However,  Jeonghan wasn’t equipped to deal with a flustered Jisoo. 

 

His behavior behind stage was odd, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t scare him a bit. The boy’s face was pale, his cheeks dusted bright pink, and his eyes were glossy. He assumed initially that he was nervous as he pranced around back stage, running through choreography, blending different songs together, and singing the entirely wrong song to the dance he was doing. But when the latter staggered, catching himself on the corner of the sofa Soonyoung and Wonwoo sat on, he realized he wasn’t nervous- he was  _ exhausted.  _

 

Suddenly, it all happened too fast. Jeonghan tried crossing the room to get to Jisoo, his heart plummeting into his gut, but before he could Seungcheol hooked an arm around his shoulder and tugged him off at a tangent, boisterously yelling about them starting in less than five minutes. It was then that he could hear the manager talking to them through their earpieces, counting down. He lost sight of Jisoo then, and he started to panic.    
  
Everyone gathered behind him and Seungcheol, chatting nervously amongst themselves as they rounded to the wings, ready to make their entrance at the sides. Jeonghan didn’t listen to a word Seungcheol was saying, his neck craned like an owl to try to find Jisoo somewhere in the crowd of people behind him. Minghao was standing at the very back with Soonyoung, the two chatting, and behind them was a line of managers and staff. Past them, he saw a head of pink hair, and Jeonghan wanted to start crying.

 

He was hunched over, from what he could tell, one arm wrapped around his gut while the others braced himself on his knee. He could see the way his shoulders and back shuddered, and how his hair was plastered to his forehead in strings and sweat even though they even begun the concert. In that moment, fear and frustration exploded inside of him, and he shrugged off Seungcheol’s arm a little harsher than he had intended. Anger surged towards the other members: how could they  _ not  _ see Jisoo hunched over behind them? How were they not asking where he was? 

 

Jeonghan turned, moving to push aside Seokmin before suddenly he heard a beep in his in-ears, and Seungcheol grabbed his wrist, pulling him out onto stage as they ran, the spotlights blinding him with feriousity that Jeonghan never remembered. His tongue rested in his mouth like lead, his legs weak beneath his weight suddenly and mind blank as the  _ Pretty U _ began to play, the sound of others faintly screaming to the crowd stabbing at his head.

 

As much of a disaster he was on the inside, he refused to let it show externally, his movements slow but accurate as he danced, trying to catch Jisoo’s eye as they moved around each other. The transitions were simply too fast, and Jeonghan found his eyes burning with tears of frustration as he caught sight of Jisoo- only to see him a beat behind and slightly hunched. For once, Jeonghan was glad they always put Jisoo in the back of the dances. He just hoped the latter could gather himself by his part.

 

To Jeonghan’s relief and surprise, he did. Jisoo stood up front, his smile bright and head high as he danced on beat, singing his part just as smoothly as any other performance, only for him to slump as soon as the position transitioned. Jeonghan wanted to scream- wanted to pull the managers aside and yell at them for letting Jisoo perform in such an exhausted state. He wanted to grab Jisoo by the neck and scold him for working himself too hard and insist why he didn’t tell anyone how poorly he seemed to feel.

 

Most of all, he wanted to scream at himself for not noticing earlier. They were supposed to have each other’s backs- they were brothers, and Jeonghan let him down.

 

One song melted into five, and Jeonghan was sweating and panting, as they all were, and he glued himself to Jisoo’s side as they filed off of stage for a VCR break and outfit change. It wouldn’t be enough time to properly asses Jisoo’s state, he knew, but he had to try something.

 

He felt Jisoo slump his weight as soon as they were out of the fans’ sight, and Jeonghan tightened his grip around his waist, supporting him. He looked at his brother, heart aching as the latter’s eyes were covered by his sweaty bangs.

 

“You idiot,” he chided as he set him down on a couch, stylists rushing over to fix his hair and makeup. The others were sweaty, but in high-energy, discussing the next set amongst themselves as they changed and freshened up. “What were you thinking?”   
  
“I’m fine,” Jisoo said, his voice as gentle as ever. He accepted a water bottle a staff member handed him with a soft thank you and took a sip. Jeonghan noticed how his hands shook. 

  
He bit his lips, glancing to Seungcheol who wasn’t paying attention. “Like hell you are,” he said, shaking his head as he sat beside Jisoo, working his fingers between his shoulder blades to try to relieve some of the tension he held in his posture. “Are you sick?”   
  
“No, no,” he insisted, leaning into Jeonghan’s touch. “I’m just tired, Jeonghan-ah.”

 

He wished he could have believed him. Jisoo looked too sickly to be fine, but  _ God  _ did he wish he was. Jeonghan just wanted him to be okay- to have fun with him and the other members with no worries other than lyrics and choreography. He didn’t want to have his heart throbbing in his chest as he waited for Jisoo to collapse. 

 

He wasn’t ready to handle this, even if he was his best friend. He wanted to scream. Glancing over his shoulder to beg  _ someone  _ to help him, he found Seungcheol standing there, arms crossed, a staff member dabbing red wax onto his lips.    
  
“What are you doing, guys?” he said, voice so acidic that he felt Jisoo softly flinch below him. “We have less than three minutes, get dressed! We’re all tired.”

 

Blood boiling, Jeonghan tightened his grip on Jisoo, only for the latter to shamefully slip off of the couch, bowing in apology to the leader before rushing to get dressed, the staff crowding around him to help. 

 

Regretfully, he moved to get changed as well, his bitterness towards the leader only growing by the second. He couldn’t understand how one could be so blind to the obvious suffering of one of their brothers, yet he acknowledged deep down that there was little in reality that they could actually do. They couldn’t stop the concert- it had just started- and Jisoo would rather die than be taken out. Carats would only worry, and with Wonwoo and Minghao’s past injury hiatuses, they couldn’t afford any more media attention in that regard, or fans would start blaming the company. 

 

The manager spoke to them through the in-ears again, counting down as the members rushed beneath the stage to get into place. Jeonghan lagged behind the others as they poured out onto the stage. They brushed past him, and he saw Jisoo at the back again, head slumped. A female staff member had an ice bag pressed to the back of his neck, and she was asking him something, the other hand working at reapplying his eyeshadow. 

  
Jeonghan rushed over, pressing himself into Jisoo’s side as he suddenly stumbled forward, his eyes scrunched shut. He pressed his hand against his chest, trying to steady him. “Jisoo, please,” he whispered, looking towards the stage. They had to hurry. “That’s the third time you’ve stumbled in the past ten minutes. You need to slow down-”   
  
The latter was shaking his head before Jeonghan even finished his statement. “I’m fine,” he whispered, brushing aside the staff member with a quiet thanks before moving toward the stage. Jeonghan refused to let him go, arm hooked around his side and hand pressed against his sternum. He felt the way his chest sputtered with each breath he took, and he was nearly crying on the spot. 

 

“Joshua,” he said, voice stern. “I’m going to  _ kill  _ you when we’re done, you know? I’m going to kill you.”   
  


He stared at Jisoo, and everything ached. There was no way he should’ve kept going. His breathing was shaky, his face paler than the white shirt he wore. He wanted nothing more than to pull him into his chest and drive him to the hospital. His skin felt hot, even from where he just touched his chest, the heat radiating through the t-shirt. Exhaustion mixed with a fever was dangerous, and Jeonghan never felt more helpless. He had never seen Jisoo sick before- he was usually stoic and in good health. Jisoo always knew how far he could push himself until he broke, but he would always stop before he did.

 

So why didn’t he this time?   
  
Even through his pained face Jisoo managed to smile at him- the  _ nerve  _ this guy had. “I know,” he whispered. “We gotta go.”

 

∞

 

Jeonghan was sure God was trying to torture him as the three hour concert felt like six, and each time he looked at Jisoo across the stage he looked even worse than the last time. He wished he could have taken his time with his ment, addressing the fans he loved so dearly with intensity and compassion, but with each passing second they stood there, Jisoo was losing his balance beside him, and Jeonghan  _ had  _ to get things moving. He wasn’t sure how long the latter could stay upright. 

 

His ment was short and sweet, and he tilted his head to face Jisoo. It was his turn. Jeonghan’s heart was lodged in his throat as Jisoo adjusted the mic taped to the side of his face. His face was so  _ pale  _ and sweaty, and it broke his heart.

 

Before Jisoo could even open his mouth, Jeonghan heard his breath hitch- saw his nose scrunch. Tears gathered at the rims of his eyes, and he smiled. “Um,” his voice was incredibly shaky, and instinctively he reached a hand to rub at the tender spot between his shoulder blades.

 

“I want to say thank you,” he said, the tears gathering in his eyes already slipping down his cheeks. Jeonghan could only stare at him in horror. “Thank you to Carats, for always being loving and supportive. But, most of all I...I want to thank my parents.”   
  
Jeonghan blinked, moving closer to Jisoo’s side as his breath was shaky in the microphone, cutting off his words. He worked his hand harder into his back, wanting nothing more than to pull him into a hug. But he had to wait. Jisoo never cried. Only when it came to his parents.

 

“For the first time, my mom finally got to come,” he sobbed, his lips trembling as he pointed off to a dark section of the crowd. “Thank you, mom. I.. I hope I’ve made you proud. Thank you for supporting me in my decision to come here and pursue my dream. I will continue to make you proud.”

 

He couldn’t say anything else, his eyes red and swollen as he sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He proceeded to bow, his balance teetering. Jeonghan kept a hand on him, rubbing it into his back and making sure he stayed upright. He understood in that moment, and he felt his own tears coming on with ferocity. He didn’t bother fight them.

 

Soonyoung reached out from behind Junhui, who stood on the other side of Jisoo, and patted his back as well, an endearing smile plastered on his face. Jeonghan felt bitter. None of them had noticed how he was struggling the entire concert, or if they did, they said  _ nothing.  _ Jisoo ran himself into the ground trying to impress his mother who he hadn’t seen in several months and none of them even noticed. 

 

∞

 

The distant scream of fans fell on deaf ears as Jeonghan pulled Jisoo backstage, his legs tripping over each other as he struggled to keep up with the elder. His throat burned as he held back his own sobs. His head pounded, vision spinning. 

 

“I hate you,” Jeonghan hissed as soon as they were in a nook backstage, his arms sliding from Jisoo’s wrists to his shoulders, tugging him into his chest and holding him there as if he would disappear if he let go. “I hate you so much. Why do you have to make me worry like that?” 

 

He head Jisoo mumbled, “I’m sorry,” into his shoulder, and Jeonghan finally let his tears spill. He allowed them to spill for his anger; he allowed them to spill for Jisoo, for his parents. He allowed himself to cry for himself- to alleviate the suffocating pressure building up inside of him.

 

“Please, don’t apologize,” he whispered into the side of Jisoo’s head, kissing firmly against his temple. The way Jisoo slumped into him, leaning into his touches, broke his heart into irreparable pieces. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”   
  
Jisoo’s breath hitched as he choked on a sob, his chest shuddering against Jeonghan’s, and he only held him tighter, hand tangled in the back of his hair. He couldn’t let go- he wouldn’t let go. Not even with Seungcheol staring at them with wide eyes from the doorway.

 

_ Get out,  _ Jeonghan mouthed to the intruder, his eyes wet but hostile. He couldn’t address his anger with the leader at the moment, not with Jisoo crumbling in his arms. The leader showed no protest, the face of a kicked puppy plastered across his face as he crept away from the room, pulling a curious-looking Minghao with him. 

 

His alarm grew as Jisoo’s sobs grew, his voice hoarse. His body was heavy against him, and Jeonghan could feel the heat radiating from his body. He tensed up in alarm and gently pushed Jisoo away, holding him at an arm’s length, one hand pawing away his sweaty bangs, brushing against his blazing skin.

  
“Oh, you’re burning up,” he said, his own chest incredibly tight. “Jisoo…”

 

“I messed up,” Jisoo suddenly blurted, catching Jeonghan’s attention. His eyes were unfocused, and his cheeks red and raw. “I wanted to make her proud, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t enough-”

Jeonghan cupped his cheeks into his hands, quickly guiding him over to a couch, kneeling at his feet and looking up at Jisoo’s sickly face. “No, no, don’t say that,” he cooed. “You’re sick. You’re okay. Please calm down.” He couldn’t believe he was witnessing Jisoo break down in front of him, his insecurities and fears on open display as if his chest had been sawed open, the pure hurt and heartbreak spilling out of him like thick, crimson blood. Jeonghan didn’t know how to fix this- he couldn’t fix this.

 

The younger was hyperventilating at this point, pitching forward to hide his face in his hands as he cried. Jeonghan grabbed his wrists, trying to pry away his hands, but when Jisoo let out a pained, childish whimper, he pulled back as if he had been burned. “Shua,” he whispered, not bothering to wipe away his own tears as he stood, watching Jisoo helplessly as he broke down. 

 

He took the seat beside him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him close, rubbing his bicep with one hand, shushing him and whispering endless words of comfort in his ear. He sniffed and pressed his forehead against Jisoo’s temple. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat there, curled up against each other as they both cried. Jeonghan kissed him again on the cheek, wincing at the heat. 

 

“You’re enough,” he muttered to him, pressing himself closer to Jisoo in an attempt to calm him down. “You know that, right? You know I love you?”   
  
He kept going even with no response. “Your mother must be so  _ proud  _ of you. She knows how hard you’re working. She loves and adores you more than any of us ever could. You’ve come so far, and she’s so proud.”   
  
Jisoo shook his head, and the muffled sob that followed broke Jeonghan’s already shattered heart. “I’m not,” he murmured, voice thick with tears. “I was sick- I… I wanted to show her how well I can do, and I  _ ruined  _ it.”   
  
“Shua, no,” Jeonghan chided. “No, you didn’t. You’re sick, it isn’t your fault.” He thought for a moment as he sat there, rubbing Jisoo’s arm, slightly rocking them back and forth. “Have you been working so hard because you knew she was coming?”

 

Sheepishly, Jisoo nodded, pulling his hands away from his face momentarily to wipe aggressively at his cheeks. Jeonghan tsked and pushed his hands down, instead reaching across to gently dap at his tears with his thumb. “When was the last time you slept?” he asked, tone careful.

 

Jisoo hesitated, and Jeonghan felt his stomach drop. “I dunno,” he whispered. “I slept an hour or two last night.”  

 

Jeonghan hissed and finished dabbing away Jisoo’s tears, his own heart hammering in his chest. “You can’t do that, Shua,” he hummed, reaching up to run his fingers through his bangs, pushing them away from his pale fash. His skin burned to touch. “You can’t work yourself that hard. I know you’ve been practicing extra hard, but it’s only making you sick.”

 

“I just wanted to prove to her that I could do it,” Jisoo sobbed, and Jeonghan was sure he never heard Jisoo so utterly distraught. “I wanted to show her I was brave- that- that I can keep up, but I  _ can’t.  _ I’m not brave enough. I wasn’t when we were trainees, and I’m not now.”

 

“Stop it,” Jeonghan said firmly, moving to scratch at the nape of Jisoo’s neck. “That’s just… nonsense. Our trainee days are over. Those were some of the hardest days of our life, weren’t they? But we did them together. We leaned on each other, and now we’re here. We’ll continue to lean on each other until we don’t need to anymore, right? You’re brave. You’re talented. You’ve done  _ so  _ well.”

 

Jisoo didn’t respond, but that was okay. They sat there for a few more minutes, Jeonghan’s words weighing heavily in the atmosphere in the room. He continued to hold him, rocking him lightly and playing with his hair until eventually the breath-taking sobs turned to numb sniffling. Jeonghan kept swiping aside any stray tears with a tender hand, their breath eventually the last sound in the room, allowing for the hushed whisperings of the rest of the band on the other side of the wall to come through.

  
“I’m so embarrassed,” Jisoo moaned, dropping his head down to rest on Jeonghan’s shoulder. 

 

“Don’t be,” he said. “I have to go talk to them. And then we have to take you to a doctor. Are you okay here by yourself for a few minutes?”   
  
He received a soft nod in response, and Jeonghan slid out from under Jisoo, readjusting him so he was curled up in the corner of the couch. “Stay here, try to get a little bit of rest.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead turning on his heel and marching from the room, sliding the curtain to see the rest of the band standing around a table full of food and empty soda bottles, their faces grim as they spotted Jeonghan in the doorway.

 

Seungcheol was the first to step forward, an obvious worried expression etched into his face. “Is he okay?” he asked, peeking at the doorway behind him. “What happened?”   
  


Swallowing his bitterness, Jeonghan let out a deep breath. “He’s fine,” he growled. “No thanks to you.”   
  
The leader blinked, flinching visibly at the harshness of his tone. “Jeonghan, what-”

 

“He’s  _ sick  _ and has been overworking himself for  _ days  _ and none of you said anything!” he yelled, fists clenched at his sides. “He staggered at least twenty times backstage and was hunched over for half the performances, and none of you thought to help! What the hell?”

 

Minghao stepped forward, putting down his half-empty bottle of cola. “Joshua’s sick-?”

 

Jeonghan laughed. “Obviously! What kind of brothers  _ are  _ you? We’re supposed to be a team. We look out for each other, and you all left Jisoo to rot backstage without even checking on him!”   
  


Mingyu stood next to Seungcheol, looking as if he had been shot; Jeonghan wanted to punch him. “We were all nervous for the show-”

 

“Get it through your  _ head  _ \- it wasn’t nerves!,” Jeonghan snapped. “He’s sick, and he was so worked up about his mother coming to the show that he’s been pushing himself past his limit. We have to protect each other, and I’m disappointed in all of you.”

 

“I’m… We’re sorry,” Seungkwan mumbled from where he stood, tears already swelling in his eyes. Jeonghan couldn’t look at him.

 

Seungcheol stepped forward and put a hesitant hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder, as if the latter would snap at his hand and bite it off, which Jeonghan wasn’t completely against. “I’m sorry, Jeonghan,” he said. “We… We were careless. I didn’t think anything of it, but I’m the leader and that was my mistake. I assumed Jisoo was nervous and tired as we all are. We don’t see it as easily as you do.”

 

“What do you mean?”   
  
“You and Jisoo were always closest,” Seungcheol said, voice and shoulders tense. “I noticed he was panting pretty hard after Thanks, so I asked him and he told me he was fine. So I believed him. We don’t pick up on the little things that you do. We’re sorry-”

 

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me,” Jeonghan resolved. “Jisoo needs to see a doctor, and after you should tell him how sorry you are.”

 

∞

 

“I’m sorry.”   
  
“Shua, for the last time,” Jeonghan sighed. “Stop apologizing.”   
  
Jisoo looked at him with sheepish eyes, his arm draped lazily across his chest as he curled up against Jeonghan, eyes sliding shut. He hated the way he could still feel the warmth radiating off of the younger man. 

 

After he and the manager rushed Jisoo to the doctor, they were told the latter suffered from exhaustion that took a great toll on his body, and the fever should break with plenty of water and bedrest. Jeonghan refused to leave his side, the two crammed in a twin bed with Jisoo pinned against the wall. The others hadn’t bothered them much either, much to Jeonghan’s satisfaction

  
“Jeonghan?”   
  
“Yeah?” he hummed as he brushed his fingers through Joshua’s freshly cleaned hair. He loved the color pink on him- especially now that his face wasn’t as deathly pale.

 

“Please don’t be mad at the others,” he said, voice small, causing Jeonghan to prop up on his side, looking down at him in confusion. “I know you yelled at them.”   
  
“I didn’t yell-”

 

“Seungkwan came into my room when you were showering, and he was a mess,” Jisoo said. “I know you were worried, Jeonghan, but they don’t deserve that either. Everyone has themselves to worry about sometimes, and it isn’t their fault. It’s no one’s but mine.”   
  
“When did you get so mature?” Jeonghan teased, trying to brush aside his embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Shua, I just got so  _ angry.  _ I didn’t… know how to handle it myself, and I blamed them for not noticing and trying to help.”   
  
Jisoo reached for his hand, brushing his fingers across Jeonghan’s knuckles. “I know,” he whispered. “But please don’t be angry with them. It’s okay. We’re a team.”   
  


Jeonghan smiled softly, leaning down to nuzzle his forehead against Jisoo’s. “You’re right. We’re a team,” he said, taking a deep breath. “You know I love you, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“I’ll kill you if you ever do that again.”

 

“Heh, point taken.”


End file.
